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“Is there any other damage?” asks Quint.

“Not that I’ve found so far. And no one seems hurt, which is the most important thing.” She turns to us, taking us in with a worried-mom look. “You’re both exhausted. I’ll call around to some of the volunteers and see who can come in today. You should go home, get some rest.”

“I’m fine,” says Quint, flopping his arms as if the ability to move his limbs proved his ability to work.

“Me too.” I copy the movement.

Rosa is unimpressed. “Go home,” she says sternly. Then her eyes drop down to our legs. “Put on some pants, first.”

We both start to giggle. It’s almost uncontrollable. Rosa rolls her eyes and waves us away.

We’re just turning to head back inside when Quint grabs my hand. “Look.”

I follow his look. A group of sea lions have discovered a new game—paddling full-speed toward an enormous puddle, sliding across it on their bellies, and landing in their pool with a massive splash. They’ve created their own Slip ’n Slide.

We all start to laugh. The game is sohumanit catches me off-guard.

“Well,” says Quint, “at least they’re having a good time. I guess the storm was good for something.”

I glance his way, startled to find him grinning at me. My stomach flutters.

“I guess it was,” I say, squeezing his hand.

We stumble back to the laundry room. Our pants are still a little damp, but I figure I can suffer for one bike ride. Quint takes his clothes to the bathroom to change.

The sun has peeked over the horizon by the time I’m dressed and strapping on my bike helmet. I linger in the parking lot. I can’t leave without saying goodbye. Without, perhaps, justonemore kiss before I go.

A second later, Quint comes charging out, carrying my backpack. “You almost forgot this.”

My eyes widen as I remember that it has not only my Very Important Gala notebook… but also my parents’ money from the pawnshop. I’m momentarily ashamed to have been so careless with it, but with everything that’s happened, I’m not sure I’m entirely to blame.

“Thanks,” I say, taking the bag and threading my arms through the straps.

Our bikes are wet and splattered with mud, having been dropped unceremoniously the night before. Quint uses the hem of his shirt to dry off my bike seat, despite my wet pants.

“What a gentleman,” I say.

Grinning, he hands the bike to me. I put up the kickstand. He picks up his bike and does the same.

We’re going opposite directions, which means… neither of us moves.

“So,” Quint says.

“So.”

The moment stretches out between us, each smiling our goofy, sleepy-eyed grin.

My fingers tighten around the handlebars. “Thanks for the movie. And… everything else.”

His smile widens at the mention ofeverything else.“We should do it again sometime.”

I hum thoughtfully. “We should get stuck at an animal rescue center in the middle of the year’s worst storm with no food and no power?”

“Exactly.”

I lean toward him. “I’ll be there.”

His hand scoops the hair from the back of my neck as he kisses me. For a few brief seconds, we are nothing but lips and fingers and heartbeats—